


He Lives With Little Joy or Fear

by MimBeech



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Romance, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimBeech/pseuds/MimBeech
Summary: From a young age, Merlin has been cursed. He lives a quiet life in a long-forgotten tower, until his peace is disturbed by a handsome rogue.A short tale of trust, friendship and love, inspired by Tennyson’s ‘The Lady of Shalott’
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 149





	He Lives With Little Joy or Fear

Merlin woke with a start and lay perfectly still, listening to the silence of the night. Below his window, a single cricket’s chirp was just audible. And then-

There!

A noise. A shuffling of feet perhaps. A rustle of clothing. 

Merlin felt his heart beat faster. His eyes strained in the blackness as he carefully focused on the darkest corners of his room. 

There! Again, Merlin’s heart skipped a beat as he made out a shadowy form in the corner by his window. Immediately he pressed his eyes shut, sat up slowly and spoke with a voice that trembled only slightly.

“Get out. Right now. I can hurt you.”

He heard a tiny intake of breath from the corner, and then… nothing. More silence.

Merlin scrunched his eyes even tighter, “I know you’re there. I can hear you. Get the fuck out.”

Another beat of silence passed, then the stranger sighed. “I’m not going to harm you. I just need to hide for a while.” His voice (and it was certainly a ‘him’) was rough and tense, and strangely earnest. Not that Merlin met too many people with which to compare voices. “I got in a bad situation with some brigands and I thought I could hide out in this weird old tower in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t even know it was occupied.”

Merlin found himself somewhat conflicted. Only able to judge by tone of voice, the man seemed to have been in serious trouble. As if sensing Merlin’s hesitation, the man spoke again.

“I’ll be out of your hair at sunrise, when I can travel in some safety. Just, please, please let me stay up here. I won’t leave the corner.”

Merlin knew the stranger was cajoling him, but he also knew the forest surrounding his prison was dangerous. All the better to keep others away. “By sunrise?”

“Sunrise, I swear.” The stranger responded.

“Fine.” Merlin tried to project some animosity in his voice. “But don’t leave that corner.”

The stranger’s sigh of relief was practically tangible. With his eyes still firmly closed, Merlin wrapped his covers around him and swung his legs over the side of his bed, aiming to face somewhat in the direction of the intruder.

“How did you get up here.”

“I climbed.”

Merlin’s lips thinned, “That’s a long way up.”

Gwaine’s shrug was audible in his voice, “I’m a strong man.”

“Who are you?”

The stranger huffed a laugh, most likely still feeling the relief of finding a safe haven for the night. “Gwaine of Caerleon.” And Merlin could hear the flourish as the other man bowed. _How charming_ , he thought drily.

“Gwaine.” Merlin tasted the word. “And what brings you so far from Caerleon? To such a disreputable part of Essetir?”

There was an extended rustling from the corner and another sigh. Merlin surmised the stranger – no, Gwaine – had sat down.

Gwaine made a non-committal sound, “Oh, you know. This and that.”

Merlin frowned, “If I’m letting you stay here a night, the least you can do is tell me your business. How’d you even get set upon by brigands so late at night?” If Merlin were honest with himself, now that he sensed no danger from this man, he was morbidly curious. It had been months since Gaius’ last visit, and even longer since his mother had made the dangerous journey to see her son. Chances to speak to regular people were practically non-existent when one was trapped in a tower and cursed for life.

There was a long silence from Gwaine. At length he spoke again, “You’re right. You’ve done me a kindness. The least I can do is tell you the truth. I’m a smuggler. Or, at least, I’m doing some smuggling at the moment. I know it’s not a particularly glorious job, but I like to think I’m doing it for the right reasons.”

“Oh?” Merlin raised his eyebrows, though carefully maintaining his self-imposed blindness. “Pray tell, what are the right reasons?”

“I don’t know how often you get out, if this is where you live. But you must know that magic’s frowned upon in most kingdoms. Druids in particular are persecuted constantly. Turns out there’s quite a need for Druids to pass safely from dangerous kingdoms, like Camelot, to safer kingdoms, like Deorham.”

Merlin’s pulse quickened at the mention of magic, “So you smuggle… people?”

“In a nutshell, yes.” Gwaine’s tone of voice suggested he was not smiling. “If you have a problem with it though, just tell me now and I’ll fuck off immediately.”

Merlin shook his head, and responded somewhat urgently, “No. No problem. It sounds like a good thing you’re doing.”

Gwaine sniffed, hackles apparently lowering, “It’s a good business. I help people out of bad situations, and they pay me for it.”

“And do you only do it for the money?” Merlin’s voice was quiet.

Gwaine seemed to think this funny because he snorted, “That’s a bit personal. You may be letting me stay in your crumbling tower, but I don’t even know your name.”

Merlin almost – almost – blinked in surprise. Instincts only just kicking in to keep his eyes closed. “Merlin.”

“Well met, Merlin.” Gwaine replied easily. “Say, why can’t you open your eyes, are you blind?”

Merlin grimaced, he thought it might have been dark enough that the stranger wouldn’t notice. “I… I’m…”, it had been so long since he’d met someone new, it couldn’t hurt to share his predicament. “I’m cursed.”

Gwaine paused. “Cursed?”

“Yeah,” Merlin sighed. “When I was a boy, someone cursed me that if I look at another living being I’ll die.”

A low whistle came from the corner, “Shit. Really?”

Merlin nodded.

“So you’re not blind.”

“No, I just haven’t looked at anyone or anything outside the window since I was 14.”

“That sounds terrible.”

Merlin hummed, “It’s… It’s just how it is.”

“And how old are you now?” Gwaine was practically whispering, absolute sympathy radiating from his voice. 

Merlin found it so strange to be talking about something that was essentially a fact of life for him. He stays in the tower, his mother comes once a year, talks with him from below his window and always ends up crying for the “loss” of her son, and Gaius comes every few months and delivers supplies and books and clothing.

“24.”

Gwaine seemed to be digesting this fact, and Merlin sat in silence, listening to that cricket again. The silence stretched, so that when Gwaine spoke, it startled Merlin. 

“Can you touch people?”

“What?”

“I mean, you can’t look at people, but you can still touch them, right?”

Certainly, when his mother had left him in the tower at 14, she’d hugged him to no ill-effect. And when Gaius was younger and able to scale the tower, he’d pat Merlin’s shoulder affectionately every few visits.

“Uh, sure.”

Gwaine’s voice became immediately brisk. “Well that’s not so bad then. Say, why don’t you just leave this tower with a blindfold on or something?”

Once again, Merlin found himself frowning. “It’s dangerous enough out there for Gaius to visit, he doesn’t need to drag a blind clotpole around behind him just so I can get some fresh air.”

“Who’s Gaius?”

“A friend.” Merlin was starting to feel put-upon. Who was this man to barge into his home and start asking questions?

Maybe Gwaine sensed a shift in Merlin’s demeanour, because he yawned in an exaggerated manner. “All right. Well, I’ve been running through a forest for most of the night, so I hope you don’t mind if I try to get some sleep.”

Merlin hummed his assent, still feeling stand-offish.

“Any chance you can spare a blanket?”

Merlin nodded and stood, suddenly conscious of his bare chest and thin sleep-pants. Opening his eyes carefully, only just trusting Gwaine to stay in his corner, he moved to a chest sitting by the wall opened it and pulled out a woollen blanket. 

He shut his eyes, shuffled closer to the centre of the room and held it out. Where there was no movement from Gwaine’s corner, he shook the blanket and said, “Come on then, take it.”

“I thought you didn’t want me leaving the corner.”

Merlin ground his teeth, feeling an inexplicable surge of anger at this man’s presence in his home. “Just come and take the blanket and go back to the corner to sleep.”

He heard Gwaine get up, and move towards him. When he reached for the blanket, his hand firmly pressed on Merlin’s.

A frisson travelled down Merlin’s spine at the sudden sensation. And Gwaine made an oddly satisfied noise. “Yep, looks like you can touch.”

Merlin quickly turned away, flicking his eyes open to move to his bed and climbing under the covers without a word.

It took him a long time to reach sleep again, his thoughts were jumbled and fast-paced, and the soft noises of sleep coming from Gwaine in the far corner only proved more disturbing. 

Finally, in the small hours of the morning, Merlin slept.

When he awoke after sunrise, Gwaine was gone.

***

A week later, Gwaine was back. This time he announced himself at Merlin’s window in the height of the afternoon.

Melin started at the sound of a loud “Hey!” outside his window. He had been cataloguing the latest batch of botanic samples Gaius had given him - writing concise notes of form and function, and sketching loose designs to aid identification. 

He stiffly rose from his desk and moved to the window, taking care not to look downward, he called out “Who’s there?”

“It’s me!” came the bright and self-satisfied response.

Merlin sighed. Though he certainly recognised the voice of the man who’d taken refuge in his tower seven days ago, he didn’t want to give the smug bastard the satisfaction of thinking Merlin would remember. Plus, he was still feeling a little hurt that Gwaine had left that morning without saying a word. 

“Who?” Merlin squeezed as much exasperation in the word as he could.

Gwaine didn’t seem to notice. “It’s Gwaine. You know – the bloke from the other night. With the bandits and the hiding?”

Merlin made an exaggerated sound of comprehension. “Ohh, of course, Gwaine… Well, what do you want?”

“Can I come up?”

“Can you come up? What for?”

“I want to see you.” Was Gwaine’s simple answer, and “I have a gift for you for saving me that night.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright then, if you insist.”

Gwaine was already climbing the first few metres up, and his grin was apparent in his voice, “Well, I didn’t really insist, did I? But I reckon I would have, if you’d been more reluctant.”

Merlin huffed a laugh at that, “Maybe I should continue being reluctant.”

“I’m already halfway up mate, if you plan to keep me hanging too long, I might just fall off your dratted tower. By the way, you might want to move back or turn around or something, if you don’t want my beautiful visage bringing about your doom.”

Merlin opted to walk back to his desk, sit on his (relatively comfortable) stool and close his eyes. Listening as Gwaine must have tumbled from the window sill – judging by his grunt and the clatter of a sword guard. 

“Made it up then?” he asked drily.

“Oh yes.” There was an awkward beat of silence, leaving Merlin to consider that he’d allowed this man in his space again, begging the uncomfortable question, why? And then Gwaine broke the silence and Merlin found he didn’t have the capacity to worry.

“So can I give you my gift? I promise it’s a good one.”

Merlin tried to keep a semblance of coolness, “Fine.”

The sound of Gwaine walking towards him had Merlin’s heart rate picking up. When he was within touching distance (and when exactly was the last time Merlin had touched someone…) Gwaine picked up Merlin’s hand and dropped a heavy object into it. Merlin instinctively curled his fingers to hold it, conscious of the fact that Gwaine’s own hand was still cupping his own from beneath. 

The object was cool, smooth in facets with perfectly fine ridges running the length. A crystal then, the length of Merlin’s hand. Merlin rubbed his thumb along a flawless plane appreciatively.

Then, shock of all shocks, Merlin felt a brush of lips and scruff on his cheek and realised that Gwaine had kissed him. A chaste kiss, certainly, but he immediately sensed his face heating up.

“What was that for?”

“The kiss or the rock?”

“The- The kiss!”

“Oh well, you’re a handsome man who rescued me from terrible bandits and I’m saying thank you.” Gwaine’s hand dropped from Merlin’s. “Actually, that’s the same reason I have for giving you the rock too.”

Merlin tried to start a sentence, but was overwhelmed, unable to think straight. 

Once again, Gwaine filled the silence. He sighed, “Look, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. Take the rock and leave the kiss. I’m still grateful you let me stay that night.”

“It’s not- uh- you’re-“ Merlin floundered, “you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I’m just- I’m just surprised.”

“Oh well that’s good.” Gwaine’s voice was non-commital, but Merlin could sense a weight in it. There were sounds of Gwaine moving away, “If I get out of your line of sight you should be able to look at it, right?”

Merlin nodded, and turned away from the sound of the other man. He opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the crystal in his hand.

It was beautiful. A near-flawless piece of quartz, double-pointed, inclusions only apparent near one tip. He held it upright, and it caught the light of the afternoon sun and split rainbows on the wall. 

“I thought you might like it.”

“You don’t know me.”

Gwaine hummed, “Yeah, not really. But I saw your little collections of pretty things when I set out that morning, and I thought this would fit in well.” He paused, and tsked his tongue, “And I know you’re kind, and cursed, and nice to look at.”

“You’re being awfully forward.” Merlin’s eyes were riveted to the dancing light on the wall.

“And you’re being awfully closed.” Gwaine countered, “C’mon let me get to know you.”

At that, Merlin turned to be perpendicular to Gwaine, presenting his profile but keeping his gaze firmly on the wardrobe opposite him. He could see a vague shadow in his peripheral vision, a figure sitting on his bed, and after all he had been told of his curse it felt… _dangerous_.

He stayed silent for a moment longer, thinking. Then took a risk, “Alright. What do you want to know?”

Though Merlin couldn’t see him, Gwaine smile was apparent in his voice. In fact, it changed the way he spoke entirely. “Great! Where are you from, Merlin?”

“From here, Essetir. A border town called Ealdor.”

“Oh yes. I know it. It’s not far from here.”

Merlin tilted his head, “I suppose not.”

“And what do you do with all these books, and crystals and plants up here?”

A hint of smile graced Merlin’s face. “I’m a scholar. I study healing properties of plants, I translate old texts, I dabble in alchemy.” 

Gwaine made a suitably impressed noise. And Merlin felt he should expand, “My uncle and I came up with the idea. If I’m stuck up here, I might as well do something useful with all my time. He brings me materials – books and plants and ink and paper.”

“And how did you get to be up here?” 

Merlin paused, thinking rapidly through the consequences of being completely truthful with Gwaine. After some thought, he decided to take a risk. “A dragon heard about a prophesy involving me. He decided he’d ruin any chance I could have to fulfil it, and set a curse on me.”

Gwaine breathed out heavily, “Shit. That’s – uh, that’s huge.”

“Hmm, I suppose so. I was supposed to help some king unite all of Albion, and instead I live in a tower writing books and inventing spells.”

“So you’re magic.”

Merlin snorted derisively, “Yeah, I’m supposed to be the most powerful warlock in the five kingdoms, but I’ve only ever used magic for my experiments, or to keep warm in the winter.” He sighed, hanging his head, “I can feel it sometimes, you know. Something in the wyrd is broken, but there’s nothing I can do about it, and I’d much rather be alive. So here I stay, in this tower.”

Gwaine was silent again, apparently digesting this new information. Merlin waited for any response, knowing that now Gwaine knew the full extent of Merlin’s misfortune, he’d likely want to leave.

“So how come you and your family chose this tower, this spot, to keep you?”

And like that, the heaviness that had lain over their conversation was lifted. Merlin felt the tension in the air fade like morning fog. When he responded, he worked to keep his voice even and not betray the rush of emotions he’d felt at the prospect of losing a possible friend.

“Oh. It’s an old watch tower from when this was the border to Camelot. Gaius knew it wasn’t occupied, so when I… when I was cursed. He and mum decided I should stay here, away from other people, so there was no change my curse could be triggered. You know, they spread rumours in the village that it’s haunted so that no-one comes here.”

Gwaine stifled a snort, then laughed outright, as if unable to contain it. It was contagious, and Merlin (pleased to make someone else laugh for the first time in years) smiled.

When he had calmed enough to talk, Gwaine asked, “Are you a ghost then?”

“Boo.” Merlin replied wryly, and he watched peripherally as Gwaine fell back onto his bed, laughing freely. 

They discussed many things that afternoon. Gwaine was completely comfortable with the idea of magic. He even requested a spell, and was treated by an apple falling on his head from thin air. By the time the sun was touching the tops of the trees outside, Merlin felt how dry his mouth was from talking (and laughing) the most he had in years. 

“Well, I should head off.”

Merlin’s dismay must have shown on his face, because Gwaine qualified, “I can come back, if you like.”

After having heard some absolutely raunchy stories this afternoon, Merlin was confused to hear some shyness in Gwaine’s voice. He responded quickly, “Yes. I’d like that.”

And as suddenly as he’d appeared, Gwaine was gone – back out the window and climbing down Merlin’s tower. 

Merlin found himself wishing he could look outside just to be able to watch his new friend before he disappeared into the surrounding woods.

***

Gwaine visited frequently. At least once a fortnight, he would appear at the base of Merlin’s tower, shout a greeting (“Got to be sure you’re not enjoying some personal time, Merlin”), and climb up to spend an afternoon. He would bring stories, pretty objects, news and and – once – a sturdy pair of boots, which (from Gwaine’s vague excuses) Merlin could only assume had been stolen.

Gwaine’s visits brought a new sense of purpose to Merlin. When he expressed an interest in Merlin’s studies, Merlin found himself motivated to do something new, something worthwhile in between Gwaine’s visits, just so he could tell Gwaine about it. 

He threw himself into alchemy, which had previously been his least favourite subject, in order to have something interesting to show. A powder that stained everything it touched blue (including Gwaine’s jerkin), a compound that fizzed prettily when set alight, a metal that moved as water and could be cupped in one’s hands.

He illustrated more botanic books, working hard to capture a plant’s likeness and testing every specimen’s uses meticulously. When Gaius dropped by occasionally, in between his duties as the physician for a wide swathe of farmland and small villages, he remarked at Merlin’s increased output, and brought ever more samples and tomes for Merlin’s studies.

He worked more with his magic. Attempting progressively trickier tasks. In one afternoon with Gwaine, he transformed various pieces of his furniture into animals (his inkwell into a frog, his desk into a goat, his bed into a horse) and back again. Gwaine was thrilled, and generous with praise.

(And as the sun set, Gwaine had asked quietly why Merlin couldn’t break his own curse. Merlin explained that a curse can only be broken by the one who cast it or through their death, and that dragons live a long time. And, at the time, both he and Gwaine didn’t acknowledge the tears that ran down Merlin’s cheeks.)

Gwaine was also a massive flirt. Every time he entered the tower, he would greet Merlin fondly, often with a compliment. When Merlin shared his latest findings, Gwaine listened raptly then remarked on how excruciatingly attractive smart men were. When Gwaine left for the evening, he’d earnestly promise to return anon. Merlin found himself wondering if this was simply a character quirk, or something Gwaine reserved only for Merlin – and despairing the fact he may never be sure.

In time, they developed a routine for Gwaine’s visits. Merlin would acknowledge Gwaine’s greeting from the base of the tower, and – while Gwaine climbed – would tie a handkerchief over his eyes. This had been Gwaine’s suggestion. When he noticed Merlin scrunching his eyes, and pulling back on his laughter in order to keep his eyes shut, he proposed using some fabric to block Merlin’s eyesight.  
“As long as you can’t see me, you won’t be hurt, right? And this way, you can relax and not worry if you open your eyes – you’ll only see my hanky.”

Merlin had grumbled – “I hope you haven’t used this kerchief…” – but had eventually grown to accept the blindfold, and even enjoy the limited freedom it allowed. Much like the presence of his new friend. They would sit together and share stories – Gwaine from the outside world and Merlin from his studies – and Merlin would laugh and Gwaine’s humour and Gwaine would marvel at Merlin’s latest efforts. And Merlin would count himself the happiest he’d been since childhood.

***

“You know, you keep calling me pretty and handsome, but you’ve never kissed me again.”

Gwaine’s tone seemed startled, “Again?”

Merlin hummed, feeling bold, “I remember. I remember when you kissed my cheek in thanks for allowing you to stay the night.”

It was late afternoon, and Merlin was lying on his bed, blindfold in place, with Gwaine seated at his feet, back propped against the stone wall and legs gently resting over Merlin’s ankles.

Merlin slowly sat up, bringing himself closer to Gwaine, feeling the weight of the other man on his small cot. “Do you care for me?”

When he responded, Gwaine’s voice was low and earnest, “You should know that I do.”

“How much?” For the first time in a while, Merlin found himself desperately wishing that he could look at his friend, look him in the eye. 

Gwaine huffed in quiet laughter, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Mmm,” Merlin hummed. “You are.”

“I… I don’t have a good track record, you know, with… uh, with lovers.”

Merlin pursed his lips, “I gathered from your tales.” Considering Gwaine’s outlandish stories of unusual trysts and far-flung lovers, Merlin couldn’t figure out why Gwaine was sounding so bashful.

“This is the longest I’ve stayed in any one region. A year and a half now. And it’s…” he trailed off, and took a deep breath. “it’s because of you, Merlin.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows and reached to where he thought Gwaine’s hands must be. With a little fuss, he found he goal and twined his fingers in Gwaine’s.

Gwaine continued, moving his hand occasionally to emphasise his words, “When I met you, I found I wanted to know you, and when I knew you, I found I wanted to stay. You seemed so lonely up in this tower.”

“So you care about me, because you pity me?” Merlin’s voice was barely a whisper.

“No!” Gwaine moved his other hand to hold Merlin’s, two hands clutching at one. “No. I don’t. I know that your life isn’t perfect. But you’ve made it so good, Merlin. You took an impossible situation, and in it you make beautiful things, and important things, and useful things. I don’t think I’ve ever admired someone as much as I do you. I love you.”

Merlin was taken aback. Throughout their easy friendship, nothing had prepared him for this outpouring. He felt he could only gasp, “You tell me now?”

“Well, I can’t have you thinking I pity you.” Again, Gwaine’s light words were betrayed by his somber tone. “And I didn’t know you wanted it. I didn’t know you wanted my love. You certainly weren’t interested that first afternoon.”

“Of course I wasn’t, I didn’t know you!”

“And I didn’t know you, but now… we know each other.” Gwaine’s voice had taken on a hopeful tone, and Merlin found himself smiling.

“Ridiculous man.” Merlin muttered, leaning forward. With his blindfold, he realised he’d never be able to aim a kiss correctly, so he did the next best thing and asked, “Kiss me.”

Gwaine must have been waiting for the words because his mouth was on Merlin’s in milliseconds. Simultaneously gentle and desperate, Gwaine dropped Merlin’s hand in favour of running his own around Merlin’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Merlin could only respond in kind, pressing forward and opening his mouth in an invitation to go further. Their kiss could have lasted for minutes, or hours, Merlin wasn’t certain. But when they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Merlin realised something had changed.

“I’m cursed.”

Gwaine ran his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone, just under his handkerchief. “I know.”

“It’ll be hard.” Merlin stumbled over his words, “Us- Being together. It’ll be- It’ll be hard.”

“Mm-hm. It will.” Gwaine ducked in once more to press a fleeting kiss to Merlin’s lips, “But it’ll be okay. In fact, I think it’ll be more than okay. It’ll be good.”

Merlin nodded, licking his lips and tasting Gwaine, feeling joy, feeling fear. “Will you stay the night?” He asked.

Gwaine was silent for some time, as he ran his hands down Merlin’s arms, from his shoulders to take hold of his hands once more. He squeezed his hands and a warmth and comfort settled in Merlin’s mind.

“I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> • I really enjoy Arthurian legends, and the Romantic/Pre-Raphaelite revival, so when I thought of Merlin as the Lady of Shalott, this just came together.  
> • Comments and concrit are gratefully received – it’s been a while since I’ve written anything non-academic!  
> • Many thanks to those who have written and continue to write BBC Merlin fic – there’s a lot of talent in this fandom and I’m grateful for it’s existence


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